


Sing Me To Sleep

by livingwithmermaids



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Triggers, happy-ish ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingwithmermaids/pseuds/livingwithmermaids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean came back to the motel after a night at a local bar.</p><p>Everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Me To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I couldn't find anything like it. I'll just tell you now, neither boy is the rapist in this story, and there is no tentacle monster in this either. Also, please tell me if the case doesn't make sense! I've never made up a case for the boys before. Title from Asleep by The Smiths, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNIJAUVC7sQ, and the song lyrics are from Het Jude by The Beatles

Sam was nearly asleep when the door slammed open with such a bang that he nearly fell off the bed. His eyes snapped open and even in the dark, he could see Dean's floppy, soaking wet hair, hear the  _squish_ of his boots as he struggled to yank them off. Sam, knowing his brother so well, could almost always sense what Dean was feeling, could usually feel the air that circled around him; whether it was anger, contentment, happiness, or love. But this time, as Dean hurried his way to the small, dirty motel bathroom, all Sam could feel was  _fear._  Dark, cold, heart-wrenching fear, something that seemed foreign in Dean's vocabulary. Sam's big brother was never afraid because he was  _Sam's big brother._ Dean was the one who insulted angels that could strike him down in the blink of an eye. Dean was the one who threatened Lucifer and the King of Hell. Dean was not  _afraid._ But before Sam could ask, before he could sit Dean down and demand to know what on Earth, Heaven and Hell could make his brother feel so frightened, Dean had slammed the bathroom door closed and turned the squeaking knob on the shower, leaving the scent of thunderstorms and rain water behind him.

~o~ 

Dean couldn't remember how to breathe.

He knew he was sucking in gulps of air, knew that his body was filtering out the oxygen, pushing the waste out of Dean's nose, but it didn't feel like breathing. It felt like the air was just passing through his body, getting forced into him by his gasping breaths, and then getting forced out by hard puffs. The thought almost made Dean sob. He had lost the ability to  _breathe._ The one thing Dean could control, the one thing he knew would be constant the rest of his life, and he'd  _lost it._

He knew the water was supposed to be hot, probably hotter than he usually prefered. To him, it felt cold, and it made him feel numb. He knew if he were to look at his back, he would see angry red marks where the water was pounding too hard and too hot. It made him think about Castiel. That marks might resemble the slits where Castiel's wings would sprout from his back if he were able to see them. It gave him a few seconds of normalness, and that felt like breaking the surface of water that was trying to drown him. But then he remembered the water he was treading in was black and cold and  _evil,_  and he decided that no, he didn't want to think about Castiel right now.

Dean knew if Sam were to see him, curled into a ball with his head between his knees and his broken, bloody nails scratching at the dirty motel bathtub, leaving watery red marks on the porcelain, that he'd pick him up, shake him by the shoulders while yelling;  _"What's wrong? Why are you doing this? Talk to me!"_ And right now, Dean couldn't handle that. He could picture Sam quietly sneaking his way out of bed, pressing his ear to the door, raising his fist, ready to intervene, but knowing if he knocked, Dean wouldn't answer. Not the way he wanted him to, anyway.

Dean's whole body ached, his legs and hips going numb. Dean would have been thankful for that, but the fingerprint-shaped bruises throbbed when the water hit them, and it just brought him right back to the musty air near the bar, the wet gravel that poked at his back, eventually breaking the skin as he struggled to sit up, for an opportunity to fight back, an opportunity that he didn't get until it was over, and he could run.

Dean wrapped his arms tighter around himself as the memory exploded behind his eyelids. He wished his fingernails would start bleeding again, so he could know that he was still alive.

He stayed in the shower until the water ran cold.

~o~

When Sam woke up the next morning with heavy eyelids and a worried look plastered on his face, ready to be taken away by one of his signature bitch face's, everything looked... Normal. Dean was sitting casually in a creaky motel chair, newspaper open and breakfast sitting on the table, drinking McDonalds finest coffee.

"Dean?"

Dean turned and gave a small, shaky smile. Sam didn't miss the small jump. "Mornin' Sammy."  

Sam frowned and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Dean's eyes jerked to the clock behind Sam. "Almost eight. You hungry?" Dean gestured to the take-out bag. "There's a cup of coffee for you too." 

Sam gave a thankful nod and stumbled his way out of bed. He grabbed his lukewarm coffee and sat next to Dean, leaning towards him to see what he was looking at. He didn't miss the way Dean immediately tensed and leaned away from him, scooting to the edge of the chair, not even trying to do it discreetly. Dean looked so terrified that  _Sam_ was almost scared. But before Sam was able to comment on Dean's actions, Dean had took a deep breath, sat up straight, forced himself to relax and masked his frightened expression, all in a matter of seconds. The only thing that remained the same was his lowered head, his refusal to look at Sam.  

"There's been a few strange deaths in Virginia recently," Dean said softly. Both of his hands were in his lap, and Sam could see Dean's fingers digging into his jeans. "Three people so far. All of them male, and all from heart attacks, but-"

"They don't look like normal heart attacks?" Sam guessed, scanning over the article Dean had been reading. "This sound like our kind of thing?"

Dean glanced up at Sam and gave a jerky nod. "I'll get my stuff." Dean stood on stiff legs and started for his bag. Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

"Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?" 

Dean stopped at the motel door and tensed. "Yeah."

"Dude, did you sleep at  _all_ last night?"

Dean placed his hand on the door knob.

"No."

~o~

The drive to Virginia was short, and for once, Dean was thankful for that. Sam, like he expected, kept a careful eye on him almost the whole drive, and once upon a time that would have pissed Dean off, maybe made him feel a bit self-conscious because it was Sam who was judging him. The one person who he really gave a shit about could find something he didn't like, and say;  _"nope, I don't like it. I'm going to leave because you fucked up."_  But now, Dean was afraid. He was afraid of what would happen if Sam found out. If he knew how weak Dean was, if he knew what happened, that Dean can handle demons and angels and poltergeists, but he couldn't fight off one person who drunker than he was. He couldn't fight off that one person and that person destroyed his world. Dean was not about to drag Sam down with him. But he wasn't going to make Sam run off either. He wasn't going to let Sam see how broken he was. He wasn't going to let Sam have him as a burden that wasn't worth carrying. 

Dean didn't start crying until Sam fell asleep, and the road was dark.

~o~

Sam sucked in a deep breath as his eyes snapped open. He looked outside the dirty Impala window at the bright neon sign of the White Daisy Motel. Sam craned his head around to see Dean grabbing the bags and walking them to a room. Sam opened the car door and squinted at the rising sun. He jogged to catch up to Dean.

"Did you drive all night, Dean? I could have taken over, man. Why didn't you wake me up?"

Dean turned and Sam's eyes widened. Dean had faint, barely-there tear tracks running down his cheeks, and shallow circles around his eyes. He gave a watery smile.

"It's fine, Sam. I wanted to drive and I thought you might need the rest. Besides, I wouldn't want you to mess up Baby." Dean didn't even try to pretend to be in a joking mood.

"Dean, are you sure you're-"

Dean's eyes narrowed as soon as Sam started speaking. "I'm fine, Sam! Don't ask me that again. And stop staring at me." Dean's eyes widened, mirroring Sam's own, and he tilted his head downward, showing a look of fear and shame that Sam had never really seen on his brother, not even when Dean had said much harsher things during tenser periods. He held his hands up in surrender.

"All right, man. I'll stop. I'm just making sure everything's okay."

Dean lifted his gaze to look over Sam's shoulder like he couldn't look Sam directly in the eyes. "I... I'm fine." He took a shallow breath. "Let's go... see what going on here." Dean spun on his heel and headed into the bright pink motel room.

~o~

It was difficult to focus on driving in his scratchy suit. The dress shirt felt like it was catching on the cuts on his back, his tie was making it hard to breathe, and his belt was too tight. It dug into the bruises and the memory was forcing its way into Dean's consciousness, and every time he got a flash of the press of the ground on his back, the feel of the hands covering his mouth and nails digging into his flesh, or the _sounds._ The sounds, replaying through his ears every second of every day, the rain, the music and the voice, was the worst. It made him want to drive the Impala off the road, just to make it stop. But he didn't do that. He swallowed his screams, forced back the tears, and drove. They were driving to the police station to learn all they could about the case. Dean had never questioned his skills at lying, but now he was afraid if he opened his mouth, something would come spilling out of his mouth that he wouldn't be able to take back.

The police station smelled of stale coffee and sweat, and everyone seemed surprised to see "Feds" walking in like they owned the place. Dean stopped next to his brother, holding out his badge, praying that his voice wouldn't waver.

"Hey there. I'm Agent Hans and this is my partner Agent Peters. We're here about your most recent death, David Joint, I believe."

The man had a thick grey mustache and a beer gut, He looked like your stereotypical grandfather. He looked up with a suspicious glare, but offered both of them a reluctant hand. "Officer Green. Why would the FBI want to see David? He was killed by a heart attack."

Sam gave a tight-lipped smile. "It certainly didn't sound like the average heart attack from the reports. We want to make sure there's nothing going around because we wouldn't want the CDC around would we? Do you mind if we take a look at the body?"

If anything, Green looked even more cautious at the threat of the CDC around but seemed too lazy to be bothered to really say no, so he nodded, and looked over their shoulders to speak to a passing coroner. "Courtney? Can you please take these agents to the autopsy room to see David Joint?"

Courtney stopped and looked over both of them, dragging her gaze slowly over Dean, giving him a small, seductive smile as she practically purred her consent to lead them to the body and swayed her hips more than necessary. Dean could feel Sam's eyes on him as he looked away.

 While Dean was slowly starting to dislike Courtney, the sound of her heels was calming as she walked to the autopsy room. The  _click-clack_  bounced from wall to wall with no voices to interrupt it. Courtney pushed open the door and held it for Dean. He glanced back in time to see Courtney let it swing close just as Sam was going to walk through. The major bitch face Sam shot him almost made him smile. Dean's gaze snapped to Courtney as she pulled open the drawer that held David Joint, with a nice bruise right where the heart would be.

"The bruise was caused by the blood vessels popping," Courtney said, standing uncomfortably close to Dean. He tensed.

"This was caused by a heart attack?" Sam said, staring at Courtney like she was insane.

She shrugged. "It's not impossible, I suppose. I've never seen anything like it, but y'know." Dean became more irritated as she talked about the death like she was talking about a trip to the grocery store. He didn't relax as Courtney pressed closer and closer to him, and even though he knew that she was nothing like the man who ruined his world, he still couldn't stop thinking about the touches. The hands that were everywhere. One his hips, on his mouth, on his neck, in his hair. It was hard not to turn tail and run. 

Sam glanced at Dean and took in his expression, just for a second, and then turned to look at Courtney. "Was there anything else unusual about David's death besides the abnormal heart attack?" There was something else hidden in Sam's tone. Something that was meant for only Dean to hear.

Courtney's eyes widened in excitement, and she rushed away from Dean and started digging around in a plastic container, bags crinkling as she rummaged through them. Dean sighed in relief. Courtney made a triumphant sound as she held up a bag. She handed the bag to Dean, making sure their fingers brushed. Dean held back a grimace. 

"These were found on all the victims." She said, pointing to three small, brown bags tied with thin sting. Dean opened the plastic bag and dumped the contents on a nearby table. Sam moved to stand next to him, picking up on of the bags. He gave Dean a sympathetic glance. They both knew what those bags meant.  _Witches._

Dean cleared his throat and grabbed the hex bag from Sam's hands and placed it in the plastic bag along with the others. "Do you mind if we take these with us?  See if we can identify them?"

Courtney gave Dean another seductive smile and leaned forward pushing her breasts out. "Of course not  _agent._ " She practically growled out the word, looking like she was going to jump him. Dean gave a small, thin-lipped smile, swallowed down bile, and hurried out the door. _  
_

~o~

Sam couldn't stop thinking about Dean. In more ways than one, which in itself was very concerning, but now it wasn't really about _those_ feeling. It was how not-Dean his brother was being. As he watched as Dean rushed from the autopsy room, looking pale and sick, Sam looked over Courtney again. She wasn't gag-inducing, quiet the opposite of that. She was very pretty, with big eyes and wavy hair, and at the moment, looking a bit irritated and surprised at the sight of Dean very obviously rejecting her advances. She practically threw him from the room, saying she had paperwork to do and Sam was distracting her. Sam would have been a bit pissed at her rudeness and would have maybe insulted her about her flirting tactics, because who the fuck in their right minds would flirt over a dead body? But Sam used the time to think about his brother's strange behavior. He looked like he hadn't slept at all the past few days, which wasn't all that unusual because it was Dean. Although, Sam couldn't remember Dean ever crying over the lack of sleep, or ever acting so afraid around anyone, especially a harmless girl like Courtney. It almost made Sam want to test Dean for demon possession.

His concerned heightened when he offered to drive on the way back to the motel, and Dean agreed.

~o~

The little bags were full of different things. One with a spider leg, one with a snake bone, and one with a picture of a clown, all paired with three, average size coins that had unidentifiable markings on them, and Dean was ready to throw a full blown temper tantrum. He and Sam both knew that there was a witch involved somehow, but nether of them had ever seen a hex bag with this kind of contents. While Sam was bent over the computer searching for any matches on the coins, Dean excused himself to the bathroom. He leaned against the counter as he gasped in and out, struggling to keep quiet as he choked on air. Having Courtney so close to him at the police station had memories flashing at him when he blinked.

He couldn't think about anything else. He couldn't think of anything but the stare he'd felt on his neck as he drank his beer. He couldn't think of anything but the feel of the brick wall scratching at his back as he was pushed against it, the way the hand felt on his mouth, pressed so hard against his lips that he could taste the sweat and alcohol on his palm. But the one thing that stood out from everything in that moment, was the sounds that he himself made. The first time he ever really screamed for help. The first time he ever really begged, and meant it. But no one helped him. Dean dropped to the floor and heaved. The smell of his vomit hit him and he puked harder, leaning on the toilet seat. He heard a thump from outside the bathroom.

"Dean? Dean! Open the door! Dean?!"

While Dean hated that Sam would see him like this, that when Sam got through the door, he would see Dean puking into the toilet on a dirty motel floor with tears running down his face, that Sam would ask questions that Dean was nowhere near ready to answer, Dean desperately wanted Sam to break down the door, to pick the lock, do something, so Dean could see him. So he could reassure himself that he wasn't back in that alleyway, with a shadowy man pulling his pants down. Sam stopped yelling and jiggling the doorknob and started kicking the door down just as Dean stopped vomiting and started dry heaving over the toilet bowl.

"C'mon Dean, get it all out."

The hand on Dean's back was like a beacon of light in the darkness. He gave a few violent coughs.

"There you go, Dean. Keep going."

Dean was thankful that Sam chose to be gentle instead of forcing him to tell him what was going on. He spit into the water, and tried to stand with wobbly legs. Sam caught him as he fell, and practically dragged him to his bed. Dean barley registered seeing the splintered door frame, and the feel of the lumpy motel bed under him, before he passed out.

~o~

The whole drive to Ace Joint's house was filled with worry. Out of all of the years that Sam had known Dean, Sam had almost never seen Dean puke, and when he had, Dean had never let Sam help him with anything. It almost made Sam shutter thinking about the way Dean looked when Sam saw him. His cheeks had tear tracks running down his face, and vomit dripping from his mouth. He'd never seen Dean like that. 

Sam packed the Impala in front of Ace's house, checking is FBI badge before stepping out of the car and starting up the steps. He hoped Dean wouldn't be too upset that Sam was talking to the brother of one of the victims without him, but even if Dean hadn't passed out, Sam would have forced him to stay at the motel.

He rang the doorbell and waited.

The man who answered the door had a tarantula in his hair. He smiled.

"How can I help you, sir?"

Sam deliberately looked away from the man's hair and pulled out his badge. "Hello, I'm Agent Peters. I'm here to talk to you about your brother, David Joint."

The man's smile disappeared, and he leaned against his door frame, seemingly unbothered by the tarantula climbing down his face an making it's way to his crossed arm.

"Why would the FBI be investigating a heart attack?"

"We just like to be thorough. Do you mind if I come in?"

The man narrowed his eyes but stepped aside to let Sam in.

"Sit anywhere you like. I hope you like spiders."

Sam had difficulty repressing a shiver. There were glass tanks filled with spiders and tarantulas, taking up every available space in the house. Sam was thankful that the only thing that was free was the tarantula currently climbing up Ace's shoulder. He kept his stare firmly on the window behind him.

"So, any idea what could have caused you brother the heart attack? Unhealthy diet, drugs...?"

"My brother was  _not_ a drug addict." Ace scowled. "And he wasn't shoving Twinkies in his face either if your wondering. Shouldn't you know this stuff already?"

Sam kept his tone gentle. "I'm just making sure. I told you we like to be thorough."

Ace scoffed to himself. "Not like I really saw him much anyway..."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"David had arachnophobia. Even the idea of a spider being anywhere near him made him start to cry. We hadn't really talked at all recently. The first time I saw him in a while was the night before he died."

"Where did you see him?"

"At the local bar, Buckley's. He was talking to a pretty woman. Long hair, nice legs. She was hanging all over him."

"Do you know her name?"

"I'd ask the bartender. He would know."

Sam let that information sink in a bit, thinking about the spider leg in David's hex bag and made a metal note to speak to go the bar Ace was talking about. He only looked directly at Ace when he cleared his throat. Ace was looking at the empty spot next to Sam. He tilted his head.

"What?"

Ace pointed to the couch with a smirk. "I think Jewels likes you."

Sam whipped his head around to see the tarantula far too close to him, close enough that if Sam were to stretch his fingers out, he'd be able to feel its legs. He jumped up before it could take another step. He gasped in a startled breath. 

"I uh... Thank you for your time."

Sam rushed out the door, hearing Ace laugh at him.

~o~

Dean awoke to the motel door creaking open and the sound of plastic bags being set on the table. He sat up. 

"Wha' happened?"

Sam glanced at him as he pulled out small boxes of medicine and a package of bagels from the bag. 

"You passed out when you were done puking your guts out."

Dean groaned internally as he fumbled for an excuse. 

"I must've eaten something bad or-"

Sam held up a hand.

"I think you and I both know that whatever that was, it was not caused by food poisoning. But I don't expect you to tell me what's going on. So take this stomach medicine and eat the bagels I bought you, and we can pretend you caught the stomach flu." Sam sat heavily in a motel chair and pulled out his laptop.

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours, Sam refusing to speak to him and Dean is too afraid to say anything. Dean took in a deep breath and quietly spoke.

"Where were you?"

The sound of Sam typing stopped for a split second before it started again in full force. "I was talking to the families of the victims."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "You went without me?"

"You passed out! And even if you haven't, you look like hell, Dean! You haven't slept in days, I don't know when the last time you ate was, and you just  _threw up_  a few hours ago, and you're not telling me shit!" Sam was panting at the end of his rant, and his eyes were full of anger. His expression softened when he saw Dean's wide eyes and his almost invisible efforts to make himself as small as possible. He turned his laptop towards Dean. "I found a translation for the words on the coins."

Dean slowly stepped off the bed and sat in a chair next to Sam. "What is it?"

"These coins are used for showing one's worst fear to themselves. They cause people to hallucinate. You stick one of these in a bag with whatever your target is afraid of, say a few words, and they'd have hallucinations that would get them so scared they'd have a heart attack." San held up David's bag. "This guy had a deathly fear of spiders."

"So the other two were afraid of clowns and snakes?"

"Yep." Sam shook his head. "But that's not all. When I spoke to the people who knew the victims, they said they all saw them with the same woman at a local bar. I talked to the bartender, and he said that the woman who was with them was Courtney."

Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "Courtney? The coroner?"

"Yeah. She's our witch."

"The bitch got her rocks off seeing her victims. Well, let's gank her." As Dean went to stand, Sam reached over and grabbed his arm, and he flinched. Sam let go. 

"No, Dean. You have to rest, man. You're not up for hunting right now."

Sam stood, and went around the room, grabbing weapons and pulling on his coat. Dean wanted to feel angry, he wanted to fight back, but he knew Sam was right. He knew if he were to come with Sam, he would slow him down, and that could get them both killed. He stood and went to his bed, laying down and preying that his dreams wouldn't be filled with pain.

***

Dean felt the rope around his wrists before he saw them, and he almost screamed. He was brought right back the alley way, he could feel the hands roaming everywhere, pulling at his clothes and whispering in his ear;  _"Such a good boy, I_ _know you like it, don't cry baby boy.'_  

His eyes snapped open with a scream lodged in his throat and Courtney straddling his thighs. 

"Hey there  _Dean_."

Dean pulled at his restraints. "You little bitch, let me go!"

Courtney wiggled a finger in his face and smirked. "Ah, ah, ah Mr. Hunter. I wouldn't do that if I were you." She held up a coin, much like the ones the victims had.

Dean gave a shaky smirk and squirmed. "You have no idea what my worst fear is. Guess your spell won't work."

Courtney's smirk got wider. "Oh, you have no idea what I know, sweetie. I knew as soon as I saw you. I knew you were broken. In more way's then one. And I thought to myself  _"He'll be so fun to destroy!"_  It wasn't hard to see what you were afraid of. And when I'm done with you, I'll kill your hunter friend. And I'll laugh as his heart explodes." 

Before Dean could stall, question how the witch was able to even pull this spell together, she whispered a Latin incantation, and he screamed.

~o~

Sam knew, as soon as he broke into the autopsy room and found it empty except for a small pile of bronze coins, that if he were to call Dean, he wouldn't answer.

 ~o~ 

_The bar was stuffy, filled with bodies that were sweaty and drunk. Sam had gone back to the motel at least an hour ago, saying he was to tired to deal with a drunk Dean, and he just flipped Sam off as he weaved his way through the women grinding on tipsy perverts. The back of Dean's neck felt hot, and he turned, pretending to lean casually against the bar's counter while drinking his third beer and scanning the crowd for whoever was staring at him. His eyes landed on a well muscled man, who was looking him over with out shame. When he met Dean's eyes, he licked his lips. Dean grimaced, and slapped some cash on the counter, making his way to door. Dean could appreciate a man's body, but he really had no interest in men other then Sam, which was an idea Dean had barely come to grips with, much less the idea of being with any man._

_Dean yawned as he went to call a cab, cursing Sam for taking the Impala. Dean had just gotten his phone out when a solid weight crashed into him and pushed him against a wall with a hand over his mouth._

_Dean made a muffled noise of surprise as whoever pushed him started kissing up his jaw. They stopped near his ear._

_"I know you saw me, in the bar." The man pushed his hips against Dean's. He struggled to free his hands from the mans grasp. "You're so pretty. I know you want me too. I can see it in your eyes."  He dropped his hand from Dean's mouth, only to replace it with tongue and teeth. Dean yanked his head away, hitting it on the wall behind him. He spoke quickly._

_"What the hell is wrong with you man?! That wasn't a hook-up look! I was just-"_

_His protests were stopped when the man grabbed his hair, yanking him from the wall and pushed him to the ground. He covered his mouth again._

_"Shh, I know you want it." He started undoing Dean's belt. Dean whimpered and started thrashing side-to-side, trying to dislodge the man. He removed the hand from his mouth and ran it through Dean's hair. Dean flinched._

_"Please. Don't do this. I don't want this! Please! Please!" No..." His words were cut off as the man kissed him again. Dean could feel tears falling down his cheeks. Hips rolled against Deans as hands wiped away the tears._

_"Don't cry, baby boy. It's gonna be okay, you'll like it, shh."_

_Dean took a deep breath and screamed._

_"Please! Someone, help! Anyone! Help me!"_

_"Shut up!" The man covered Dean's mouth with his own again, entangling his fingers with Dean's, stopping him from scratching his nails against the wet gravel. He pushed in with one thrust. Dean screamed._

~o~

Sam could hear Dean's screams as he quickly picked the lock to their door, pushing it open and seeing Dean arching his back like he was in pain, which was probably true. But what made Sam the angriest, was the witch, watching Dean like he an animal in the zoo. Sam growled and lunged at her, pushing his knife in her neck. He felt a dangerous satisfaction. Sam was snapped out his thoughts as Dean started screaming louder, his heartbeat getting louder and faster by the second. Sam struggled to hold Dean down as he dug for the coin. As soon as his fingers grazed the metal, Sam threw it across the room and shot it until Dean landed with a hollow  _thump_ on the bed and sobbed. Sam took the knife from the witches neck and cut the ropes around Dean's wrists, not hesitating to scoop him into his arms.

"Shh, Dean. It's okay, I'm here now. Sam's here, I'm not going to hurt you, shh."

Dean sobbed harder and struggled to pull away from Sam's arms."Nonononono, please! Please stop, don't hurt me, please!"

Sam forced Dean to lay down on the bed, tucking him to his chest and rubbing his back. "I'm not going to hurt you, Dean. It's okay."

Dean hiccuped. "H-he raped me, Sammy. He raped me and I don't-"

 _"What?"_  Sam pulled away from Dean and looked him in the eyes. At the tone of Sam's voice, a whole new set of tears threatened to fall and Dean struggled to get away again. Sam hugged him "I'm so sorry Dean. I'm so, so, sorry. I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you."

"I told him to stop b-but he-he didn't..." Dean sobbed again.

"It's okay Dean. I'll keep you safe."

Dean's sobs slowly got quieter as Sam rocked them back and forth until they stopped altogether. Dean moved closer to him, and Sam gladly held him tighter.

"Will you sing to me?"

The request almost made Sam stop his movements. It was odd. Dean had said a lot of odd things, but he'd never asked Sam to sing, ever.

"I like the sound of your voice." He sniffled. "'S what I thought about, when I... When..." He trailed off.

Sam shushed him and dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Dean's hair. "I love you."

Dean pressed his nose gently against Sam's chest in response. Sam took a deep breath.

_"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better..."_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of making a short little sequel, just showing what life was like for Dean and Sam after this incident. If I were to do that, it would have more Wincest, but it depends on if people like this. I hoped you liked this!!!!
> 
> Update 2017: I wanna die. Sorry everything is trash


End file.
